


there's no control (you calm my soul)

by iPhone



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, Second First Time, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Dani just wants to feel warmth again. She finds it in a motel room in Vermont, Jamie by her side.or,The second first time fic nobody asked for.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 30
Kudos: 603





	there's no control (you calm my soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from "Spiritual" by Super Duper, ft. Mr Gabriel. This idea would not leave me alone and demanded to be written no matter how horrible the outcome, so my apologies in advance. I wanted to explore how thirsty Dani would be after sleeping with Jamie for the first time so this is kind of a second first time fic.
> 
> Also, from "Spiritual" and feeling entirely too relevant for the mood:
> 
> _there goes my plane_  
>  _ask me to stay_  
>  _and I don’t wanna leave no_  
>  _who needs the city when I have your hands, you_  
>  _taking your time is a new religion_

_“Yeah?” Jamie asks, finger curling around the strap of Dani’s bra._

_Dani, who is already hovering above Jamie, basks in how natural it all feels. How natural it feels to hovering over this woman; this woman to whom she is so incredibly attracted._

_“Yeah,” Dani agrees. “Please.”_

_And warmth—warmth spreads everywhere._

_There is so much she wants to do._

* * * * *

America is cold.

Colder, perhaps, than how she left it just under a year ago (had it already been close to a year?). England had been cold at the beginning as well, then it had warmed, but nothing quite like a hot summer in the South. Nothing quite like sweet tea and ice cubes and endless sun. But it had been warm—warm enough until the unbearable cold.

And now she’s back in the U.S., less than a year after leaving everything behind. Fall in the Northeast. Close to winter now.

Dani is cold. She shivers, slumping a little in her seat as she takes in the snow-lined trees and the gloomy skies.

Of course, she’s cold, she tells herself. She’s cold because it’s _winter_. Almost, anyway. It’s fall, it’s winter, and she’s cold because she’s too tired to even reach out and crank the heat in the car.

But Jamie—Jamie is warm.

Dani takes a moment to glance over at Jamie who is seated in the driver’s seat, expertly navigating the unfamiliar roads as they make their way further north.

 _Vermont_ , Jamie had suggested. _To see the snow._ And Dani had agreed because it was better than feeling the ache that continued to permeate her heart—the same ache that had never quite gone away since leaving England for America.

(Perhaps, even, the same ache that never quite went away since leaving America for England—but that alone feels a lifetime away, even if it nips at the back of Dani’s mind from time to time.)

Instinctively, Dani reaches her hand out to her left, longing to touch Jamie again. To feel comfort. To feel safe. To feel grounded. She pauses halfway, hovering awkwardly over the middle console. Dani flushes, quickly turning her head to the side so she can gaze out the window instead. Her hand falls lamely just beside her thigh and she moves to pick at a loose thread in her pants just to have something to do.

As she follows a random, slow trickle of water sliding down the window, her eyes wander to her own reflection, slightly distorted in the rain-speckled side-view mirror. Without fail, she catches the disparity in her own eye color, still as jarring as it was the first time she had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

But—ultimately, that was the important takeaway: she had caught a glimpse of herself and that alone. Herself. Alone.

A soft, gentle touch startles her out of her gazing. Dani turns quickly, eyes dropping to where Jamie has hooked her pinky just around the tip of her finger. Her gaze flicks up, a sheepish smile spreading across her lips involuntarily when she catches the barest hint of a smile—a smirk—on Jamie’s lips, though her gaze is fixated ahead, carefully driving all the while. Dani’s eyes track up and around Jamie’s profile with the kind of laziness she has only recently allowed herself to indulge in: she takes in the curve of her chin, the tip of her nose, the gentle natural red in her cheeks, and finally the unruly curls peeking out from under the soft hat jammed atop her head.

 _No, not alone_ , Dani thinks. She will not have to be alone for whatever stretch of life she has left before her.

With a smile and her lip tucked between her teeth for the briefest of moments, Dani relaxes in her seat, curling her hand around Jamie’s and letting herself drift off.

* * * * *

_Jamie’s hands on her body are neither heavy or light. Quite simply, her hands feel like they are a part of Dani’s body. Not quite extensions of herself, but gentle like the lap of waves against the shore. Over and over. All over. Everywhere._

_Everywhere, her hands roam—but the most striking intimacy happens when her hands grab Dani’s, both of them expelling a trembling breath._

_“Touch me,” Jamie whispers. No—begs. She begs, eyes dark and alight with something wonderfully new and exciting._

_And Dani does._

_Dani won’t stop—she couldn’t if she tried. Not now, knowing what she does. Wanting what she wants. Being who she is._

_Jamie has unlocked everything._

* * * * *

They end up in a cozy motel (two words that are not necessarily meant to go together, but Dani has experience with the unexpected at this point) by the time they reach the Vermont state line. It is dark and chilly and Jamie all but drags Dani from the car over the sound of Dani’s half-hearted protests that they just sleep in the back of their car all night. Keep each other warm. Cuddling. She’s _sure_ one of those suggestions will land, but Jamie ignores her and they end up securing a room for the night.

“Motels freak me out,” Dani admits, finally, as Jamie nudges her fully into the room. “Always have.” Her eyes, however, land longingly on the comfortable-looking beds. The two notably separate beds. Dani chances a glance at Jamie to see whether Jamie has a comment or remark about their sleeping arrangement, but Jamie is already grumbling to herself and rifling through one of their oversized duffles.

It takes a moment for Dani to process—like, really _truly_ process—but they’re _here._ They’ve left that part of their life behind. The very brief spell at Bly, pleasant and horrible memories alike.

A new adventure.

A new adventure, starting with the hunch in Jamie’s shoulders and the determination that seems to reverberate from her with every breath. Dani wonders which demons Jamie herself is running from (she has some idea); Dani wonders if Jamie knows that Dani isn’t necessarily something to run towards either (Jamie knows; she must).

But—

_One day at a time._

Dani can _try._ For Jamie, at least. “Hey,” she calls, taking the chance to step into Jamie’s orbit again, leaning up to rest her chin just over Jamie’s shoulder to peer at the mess she’s making inside the bag. “Let’s just get some rest.”

“Impatient,” Jamie replies, offering a smile over her shoulder. Dani catches the smile with her lips, leaning in as best as she can to press a messy kiss to Dani’s mouth, only managing to get somewhat of an off-center kiss and the corner of her mouth.

Dani stifles a smile at Jamie’s surprised expression, happy to know that her kiss evokes as much a reaction as Jamie’s kisses do in her. She catches the way Jamie’s eyes flick down to her lips as she twists slowly in Dani’s hold, from where she is backed up against the little table in the corner. “We should probably shower though,” Dani suggests lightly, this time unable to keep the laugh from escaping when Jamie’s entire posture deflates and she ends up _pouting_ right at Dani’s face.

Still. This is so _new._ And Dani still doesn’t quite know what to do with all the warmth that spills through her—spills out of her. A strangeness, almost, this sense of wanting and needing like she has never wanted and needed before. She gapes for a moment too long, something that she hopes looks like desire across her face as clear as day, because Jamie smiles again at her. Jamie smiles, playful and understanding all at once.

“For _that_ , we’re doing this separately.”

Dani protests weakly, still not quite catching up to her own emotions, loosely letting Jamie’s shirt slip past her fingers. “I didn’t—”

“Sure,” Jamie drawls, flashing one last smile over her shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re valid, Poppins.”

Dani’s blush reaches all the way down to her wooly socks.

* * * * *

Dani is brushing out her hair, warm and fluffy from the cheap blow dryer in their bathroom, when she walks out, eyes landing on Jamie already tucked under the covers on one of the beds, nose buried in a book. A swell of affection rushes through her at the sight of her—her _girlfriend_ , as foreign as the thought sounds. Companion. Company. Girlfriend.

She longs to test the word out on her tongue, but her own fears haven’t quite ebbed yet. The move back to the U.S. has barely settled in her chest, let alone the thought of a life past Christmas. And yet, here, in this nondescript motel room, Jamie is setting her book aside and gazing at Dani as if she hung the stars themselves.

_One day at a time._

Dani flicks the light off, walking slowly over to the other empty (cold, desolate, lonely), unoccupied bed. She pauses midway and she peeks over her shoulder hesitantly, the question dying on her lips when Jamie is already lifting the edge of the comforter on the too-small bed.

“C’mere.”

Dani bites her lip, sliding beneath the comforter. She shivers as her leg brushes against Jamie’s. “S’cold,” she mumbles, tucking her head under Jamie’s chin.

“You’re always cold,” Jamie teases, though there is a hint of tiredness in her voice.

Dani doesn’t respond for a long moment, wondering if Jamie knows how close to the truth she is—the lingering thoughts and worries always nagging at the back of Dani’s mind. Maybe it’s all just banter to Jamie. Maybe it’s somewhere in between, in that gray area they haven’t really touched yet—but Jamie never pushes. Never forces Dani to talk.

Only when Dani’s ready.

“Not so much when I’m with you,” Dani finally whispers, letting her breath wash over the bumps of Jamie’s collarbones. She lifts a hand slowly, tracing the delicate bone, marvelling in the warmth that crashes through her when Jamie shivers as if she is drawing some of the cold from her lover. Entranced, Dani traces her finger up the delicate column of Jamie’s neck, then to her jaw, and finally to her lips, lingering. Jamie’s lips press forward, kissing her fingertip ever so gently that it makes Dani want to cry.

She doesn’t cry.

She surges up, kissing Jamie with as much gusto as she can, rocking the bed ever so slightly as she does so. Jamie’s tiny noise of surprise quickly morphs into one of distinct pleasure as she responds to the kiss easily and naturally, like they’ve been doing this for years. Like their lips have only longed to meet again and again with the experience of lovers who have had thousands of kisses before.

Jamie’s hand is sure and steady as it slips up the back of Dani’s shirt, fingers mapping new but familiar paths. The faintest memory of their first night together comes rushing back, but the new sensations scramble to overwrite the wiring in Dani’s brain as she arches into Jamie’s warmth. Each sensation feels like a jolt to her own senses—each fractured breath between them as they kiss, messy and desperate, like each kiss is their first kiss anew.

A new first kiss: there is no greenery; there is no lake; there is no haunted spectre. Just them, together in this bed (it’s a _bed_ , even if it isn’t the best), finally.

(But not a first kiss that replaces their first kiss, to be sure. Dani would never.)

“You sure?” Jamie murmurs quietly, the words barely slipping past swollen lips. Dani pauses, taking in Jamie’s murmured inquiry. Jamie is unable to hide the faintest hint of self-doubt in her voice. It makes the last wall crumble; it makes Dani want to cry _again_ , damnit.

Dani nods, swallowing. She leans in again to nip at Jamie’s lips once more. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yes. Please.”

_I need you._

_I want you._

_I missed you._

Her unspoken words fall away into the nothingness—and for once, it is a nothingness that she is comfortable with because the nothingness only highlights that she is with Jamie and Jamie is with her and nothing else matters.

Jamie gently cups the back of Dani’s head, tongue slipping into Dani’s mouth as she goes. With further tenderness, Jamie rolls Dani to her back, keeping a sure hold on her as she goes. Breathless, Dani longs to pull Jamie further into her, but there is no more space between them, not even air and yet—

(damn clothes)

“—Off,” Dani mumbles as best as she can between heated kisses. “Take it off.”

Jamie huffs, something akin to a laugh, and begins kissing at Dani’s neck, nipping and sucking with gradual intensity. She pushes at the bottom of Dani’s shirt, lifting it so painstakingly slow. Her hands follow the path of the shirt even as she stops pushing the shirt up. Slowly, oh so slowly, Jamie’s hand finally reaches the curve of Dani’s breast, hesitating for the briefest of moments before Jamie’s palm rests atop a straining nipple.

Dani exhales loudly, her head tipping back. Jamie does nothing for a long moment. Cherishing. Lingering. Remembering. Her lips move languidly across Dani’s skin, but she does not move her hand as Dani begins to shift restlessly beneath her. Her hands weave through soft damp curls at the back of Jamie’s head, somehow more unruly than before, and she is immediately, once again mesmerized by the texture and the ease with which she can touch her lover.

It is easy, like breathing—something that Dani remembers how to do, but for the first time in a while, it feels like she can do so freely. Breathe easy. Breathe freely.

In and out.

As easy as breathing.

Being with Jamie is as easy as breathing; as easy as existing; as easy as both breathing and existing when both those things were so hard not too long ago.

When Dani opens her eyes again, she is so present and so grounded that she startles at the clarity with which she is perceiving the moment. A soft, wanting gasp leaves her lips as she pulls Jamie in for another searing kiss, this time taking measures to roll Jamie onto her back, tucking their bodies as close to the center of the bed as she can.

Jamie makes a noise of surprise, head falling back against the pillow before Dani is kissing her eagerly once more. Freely. Messily. The rest comes easily, as natural as it was the first time. Something visceral claws within Dani’s chest, entirely needy and wanton as her skin brushes against Jamie’s fully. She gasps, hot and desperate against Jamie’s neck as she rocks experimentally down against Jamie’s thigh. Dani grabs at the sheets, the pillows, Jamie’s hair—anything to ground herself in the moment.

But that moment quickly bleeds into the next and she lets her hand wander as it pleases, delighting in Jamie’s pleased sounds and broken gasps. It is a reaction that Dani wants to elicit again and again until they’ve both exhausted themselves. Like the first night. And more nights to come.

Dani stifles a quiet moan of her own, slipping her fingers down past the plane of Jamie’s stomach—further, further—

“ _Yes_ ,” Jamie murmurs softly, then louder, “Dani, _please_ —”

It is the choked-off moan that does it for Dani, really. Her cheeks flood with heat and warmth and she _clenches_ —hot and wet around _nothing_ —at the wanton display of need.

She could spend the rest of her life doing this. How had she wasted time doing anything else? How had she bothered to live her life _not_ knowing what Jamie looked like or sounded like with Dani’s fingers teasing at her clit, regardless of how clumsy or awkward Dani feels about it?

Slowly, she slips her fingers through hot, wet folds, careful in her ministrations. Dani tries to recall every single thing they did together that first night, but the memory feels more like an echo or an impression of a memory rather than a clear image. She does not despair. The thought of making new memories excites Dani—feels her chest with something infinitely more than dread.

It is hope.

Her fingers move.

Love.

Jamie whimpers.

Joy.

“Fuck,” Dani whispers, nearly silent. She tries again, louder, punctuating the word with a steady thrust of her fingers. The movement feels natural and when Jamie tenses around her so wantonly—

“Don’t stop,” Jamie mumbles. “I need you to—“ she cuts herself off with a gasp, a knee bending, her back arching—all to take Dani’s fingers in deeper as she curls her fingers experimentally.

It’s then that Dani feels another shift in her mind. She stares with open desire and wonder, looking down at Jamie’s flushed face. Unbidden, a memory of Jamie guiding her hand up her back. Jamie encouraging her always. Jamie wanting her and wanting Dani to want her back no matter what.

God, Dani wants her.

She wants her girlfriend and there isn’t a thing stopping her. Not either of their demons. Not what Dani fears lives inside her.

So she wants, and wants, and _wants_. The wanting—the sheer act of primal desire—warms Dani like a flame the begins somewhere in her belly and rises up to her forehead. Down to her toes. And oh—how it threatens to spill out of her.

She cracks herself open then and lets her desire run over.

Dani grabs Jamie’s hand, guiding it between her own legs. She lips her tongue into Jamie’s mouth to stifle the knowing chuckle that’s bound to slip past Jamie’s lips.

All that can come later. For now, she wants nothing more than to feel the gentle dampness on their skin, slow build of sweat along their foreheads; she wants nothing more than the rhythmic sound of the bed; she wants nothing more than to want and be wanted because it is better than being lost to the recesses of her own mind.

If Dani could say all this aloud in some way, she would. She _could._ But as Jamie's breath ghosts down her collarbone, hand curling around her hip, Dani finds that she does not need to say anything at all because she has everything she might ever need within her grasp.

Like benediction—a reprieve from all that has transpired—Jamie's name falls from her lips like a mantra; Jamie's name falls from her lips like she's forgotten her own name and quite honestly, she isn't sure that she would want it any other way. 

* * * * *

Dani wakes to the sight of Jamie’s face. Her eyes track slowly across every last inch of skin available to her. Jamie’s nose. Her lips. The golden hues of sunlight glancing off errant curls.

Inside Dani, she is warm. All is quiet and still as the morning air around them. She is sure the silence won’t last - it never does - but for once she does not feel dread or the urge to shiver.

She longs to wake Jamie, if only to see her eyes again, but she settles

One day at a time, as long as she gets this for the rest of her days.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me/at me on [Tumblr](https://beca-mitchell.tumblr.com/). I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
